Because Why Not
by Mrs Billy Pratt
Summary: Superwholock! Dean and Sam were having a roughly average day when they almost get crushed by a flying blue phonebooth. Rated T mostly because of Dean. My own two characters, including a possible Sam/OC that I like to make fun of.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey Superwholock fans…its Mrs. Billy Pratt (obviously).**

**This is my official first Supernatural fic, and since I'm still on season 1, my characters will most likely be OOC somewhat. I'm slightly more confident about my Doctor Who characters, and Sherlock, but feel free to offer advice in a review or PM if you think I need it (Hint: this is not a suggestion. I am begging here).**

**Anyways, enjoy, review, and…um…enjoy?**

Dean was having a good day.

That somehow didn't happen anymore, despite the fact that he could now drive around, salt-ing and burning various demons with his brother. A twisted example of happy, but happy nonetheless.

The weather was fantastic, there were currently no demonic ghosts to kill, and there was a restaurant down the interstate some, where a comfy seat and a delicious piece of pie were waiting for him. Sam was telling a good story and laughing at the outcome in a very picturesque way.

It was nice, for a change.

…or at least it was nice until a big blue phone booth came spinning out of nowhere in the road right in front of the Impala.

Dean swore loudly and swerved violently, throwing Sam against the car door mid-laugh. Eyes wide, Sam turned quickly to stare at the random flying box. Dean pulled over, panting slightly. The brothers sat in the car for a few seconds, in total silence other than the sound of their heavy breathing. They exchanged glances and in unison got out.

The box was 'parked' on the side of the road looking somewhat inconspicuous for a totally abstract telephone booth. Sam leaned toward Dean and said quietly, staring at the box, "You see it too?"

Dean exhaled, his brother having confirmed that he wasn't insane. "Yeah, I see it."

A tall thin man opened the door and walked out, squinting at the sun. He wore a pair of tan pants and a matching dinner jacket, under which was a white dress shirt and a bowtie. Behind him a pretty redhead stepped out, looking around until she saw Dean and Sam. She grabbed the man's arm and pointed at the Winchesters, causing the man to whip around and look at the boys. He beamed and started approaching, his arms thrown wide.

Dean was too stunned to even hit on the redhead.

"Sam! Dean!" the man exclaimed, beaming happily at each of them in turn. "So nice to see you again!"

Dean shook his head. "I'm Dean, he's Sam."

The man nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. Of course." He had a British accent.

"Doctor, they don't know you yet," the redhead said to the Doctor.

"Wait," Sam said, shaking his head. "_Doctor?"_

The Doctor nodded, smiling again. "Oh, go ahead, then. Say it."

"_What _doctor?" Dean blurted.

The smile faded from the Doctor's face. Very awkwardly he turned and looked at the girl, then sort of looked around as though he were saying 'well that didn't go as I planned'.

Dean, realizing that he had screwed up somehow, began to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you…uh, sir."

The Doctor smiled again. "No, it's fine. I'm just the Doctor. This is my companion, Amy Pond. You must be the Winchesters!"

Sam nodded awkwardly.

"So," Dean looked around, scratching the back of his neck, "so what do you want from us, exactly?"

Instead of answering, the Doctor leaned over to Amy. "About how longer?"

Amy checked her watch. "My watch isn't—"

"Oh, yes, of course. An hour, then."

Suddenly Dean seemed to recover himself. He grinned sexily at Amy. "Hi." Sam sighed, looking at the sky, as his brother stuck his hand out.

"Hi," Amy said passively. "I suggest you stop unless you'd like to be zapped with a laser from planets you'll never see."

Dean almost stopped smiling, but instead grinned more broadly. "You're cute." He winked.

The Doctor was apparently more intent on a lizard crawling across the ground than the scene that had happened right in front of him. "So I suppose we should go to get some pie?"

"Um, wait," Sam said. "You never told us—"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean said impatiently, still looking at Amy, "there's pie to eat and conversations to have." He looked importantly at Sam, then smiled back at Amy. "And it was certainly nice to meet _you _here."

"Oh but I seem to have forgotten," the Doctor smiled, "we're going with you! I'll explain more on the way!"

Dean smiled again. "I'm driving."

Sam sighed, and, as the two strangers followed Dean into the car, took another look at the phone booth.

It was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, this tea is dreadful," John winced, setting the mug down.

"What did you expect, we're in America," Sherlock said vaguely, looking at the door of the diner they were in. Apparently they were expecting a doctor and his assistant, but it had been nearly three minutes and nobody had shown up yet.

"Perhaps we should just go back to San Francisco," Sherlock muttered. "There's a consulting detective there that has apparently solved every case thrown at him for ten years…"

John sighed. "Sherlock, we've been here for five minutes. Be pai—never mind."

Suddenly a commotion at the door interrupted the utter lack of conversation. A tall, lean, college-age kid was pushed through the door backward with a loud bang. Following him smoothly was a shorter, older, smoother man, who was smiling at the red-haired girl following him with an irritated smile. A more recognized face came after. The tall man with a bowtie, now wearing a fez.

Sherlock stood up. The Doctor looked around, and, in seeing Sherlock, pulled his assistant's arm, causing the smiling stubbly guy to follow and the college-kid to follow, exasperatedly rolling his eyes.

"Is he here?" John murmured.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, "and he's got company."

"John," the Doctor smiled, "Sherlock. These are the Winchesters! Best hunters in the galaxy, and quite possibly the universe."

Sherlock watched as the shorter of the two stared gaping at a waitress carrying a piece of cherry pie. His—brother? Partner?—stepped on his foot sharply and smiled at the detective.

The long haired one with a button nose stuck out his hand. "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother—"

"Dean," he said distractedly. "I'm Dean."

Sherlock took his hand. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my partner, John Watson."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Partner? You mean like—" He was cut off when Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

"We're not a couple!" John said quickly.

Dean nodded like, 'oh, right.' "Of course not."

John looked ready to retaliate when the Doctor said quickly, "Alright, let's get down to business."

Everyone sat in the small booth. It was very uncomfortable. Sam cleared his throat.

The Doctor placed his hands evenly on the table. "I am not from this planet."

Everybody burst out talking.

"—well, obviously not, I mean the way you—"

"—WHERE'S THE FRICKING SALT?!—"

"—dammit, Dean, I thought this was a vacation—"

"—what's _that _supposed to mean—?"

"Can I get anything for you folks?" A waitress, probably about 25, had appeared with a notebook.

Dean put the small container of salt back on the table. "Actually, could I get a piece of cherry pie, a Coke, and your number?"

Amy groaned and Sam rolled his eyes.

The waitress smiled at Dean. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't date assholes."

Dean's smile faded. Sam smirked. "Can I at least get the damn pie?"

She smiled icily. "We're out." Just as she was turning away, she said, "Oh, and by the way, we have a strict humans-only rule."

The Doctor looked surprised for half a second, but then said grumpily, "Oh, alright, then, sit down."

She smiled. Dean scowled at her, his head resting on his arms. "You're kind of a bitch, you know."

"I take that as a compliment."

"I must have said it wrong."

"Anyways," Amy said forcefully.

"Oh, right," the Doctor said, business-like. "Now that we're all here—"

"What the hell does that mean, anyways?" Dean asked. "Two gay British guys, a hot British girl, an alien, for god's sakes, and two normal Americans. Okay," Dean shrugged, replying to the accusatory stare from his brother, "less than normal. But why _us_?"

"And a regular American waitress," John added.

"Whatever."

"Hey, I have a name, you know!"

"No one cares."

"It's Victoria, if you were wondering," she informed the group.

"We weren't," Dean shot back.

They glared at each other for a few seconds.

The Doctor, losing interest, said, "Well, we're glad you're joining our little group, Victoria."

Sam snorted. "The sexual tension is reaching its peak. Any second now they'll start making out."

Dean looked at his brother, horrified.

"Can we get to the point here?" Sherlock asked.

"Alright." The Doctor threw a spoon in the general direction of Dean and Victoria.

"I'm sure you've heard of Mr. Holmes. And you've heard of the Winchesters."

"Not really."

"Actually, never. Go on."

"Um…okay…anyways, the Winchester brothers hunt demons. They're very g—"

"I'm sorry," John asked. "Did you say they hunted _demons?_"

"And ghosts, yes," the Doctor replied.

"But…er, never mind, go on," John said, shaking his head.

"They're very good at what they do," the Doctor continued. "And we need their help."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back it up, E.T," Dean started. "You think we're gonna work with high and mighty dickwad here? 'Cause we're not."

"Please ignore my brother," Sam said temperamentally. "He hasn't had a beer or a piece of pie in 12 hours."

"What, do you want us to go salting up the Brits' house?" Dean asked. "Because you could have just called."

"No," the Doctor's patience was waning. "I'm trying to save everybody on this planet. You can help me if you want, but if not—"

Amy tugged on the Doctor's sleeve. "Doctor," she whispered, terrified. At the end of her arm, her hand ended in a point, where a familiar face could be seen.

Dean and Sam simultaneously gasped. John turned white, and Sherlock's face was tense.

"Is that…?" Dean whispered, awestruck.

"No," Sam murmured. "Lucifer?"

"Who?" John said absently. "No, it's…Moriarty."

"Th-the Daleks!" Amy sounded petrified.

The Doctor was pale. "Go! Now!"

"Go wh—" Victoria asked.

"To the Impala!" shouted Sam, leaping up like the majestic moose that he was.

"We can't all fit into my poor baby!" Dean yelled back.

"We'll have to, if we want to live!" Amy screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

"I hate you all," grumbled Dean.

"At least you don't have this dancing monkey on your lap," Amy sighed, staring at the Doctor sitting on her lap like a happy little two-year-old.

The seven people were being forced into the now-tiny Impala and the car was about to start when a small teenage girl came running to it.

"Oh damn," Victoria muttered.

"Who's that, your daughter?!" Sam said, panicking.

"My sister," Victoria stuck her head out the window with difficulty. "Hi, Paige!"

"What are you doing?"

"Oh…um, nothing."

Dean snorted.

"Are you going to a party?" Paige crossed her arms. "I have school in the morning, you can't be throwing up in the morning because you thought the shaggy-haired moose was cute."

After half a second's contemplation, in which Sam stared rather scandalously at the girl, Victoria sighed. "Get in. You're sharing a seat with the moose."

Sam groaned and Dean grinned smugly. "You get to share with the ten-year-old."

"Um, excuse me? I'm fifteen," Paige said sassily.

"Um, excuse me? I'm twenty-two," mimicked Sam.

"Wow, the younger one is even snottier than her sister," Sherlock commented, to much laughter.

"Alright, can we go to where I left the TARDIS?" the Doctor asked, staring out the rearview mirror.

"Can somebody move the Doctor's head?" Dean yelled. "I can't see a damn thing."

"I can be your eyes," Amy piped up.

Dean grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by Sam's elbow again.

"It's following us!" Amy shrieked.

"Jim Moriarty may be an inferior life-form, but I think he qualifies as a 'he'," Sherlock mused.

"Yeah, I think Satan would be best described as an 'it'," Dean said over all the voices.

"I don't think so," Sam murmured, "he's probably a 'he'."

"Who?" Paige asked. "That's my...my mom."

"It's Mom," Victoria said quietly.

Realization flooded over the Doctor's face, and when it disappeared, it was replaced by horror. Suddenly Sam remembered something from his dad's journal—but it couldn't be…could it?

"I think I know what we're dealing with here," he said grimly. He shot a pointed look at the glove box to Dean, whose once confused face was suddenly looking shocked and terrified.

"Yes, a serial killer," John said impatiently.

"Worse." The Doctor was staring at the thingy, his face distorted by emotions too muddled to comprehend.

"Oh, goody," Victoria grumbled.

"There's no way I can get back to the TARDIS, sorry, Doc," Dean said affectionately. "So where else?"

"500 miles in any direction should do it, I think," the Doctor said calmly.

"Got it," Dean said. "There should be a motel somewhere that we can all stay at. If not…I'm sure I could break in to someone's house."

"Dean, we promised we weren't gonna do that again," Sam said quietly.

"And technically that sentence was incorrect," Paige said as though she had no choice. "It would be, 'There should be a motel somewhere at which we can stay'. You can't end a sentence with a preposition."

Everybody stared at her except her sister.

"Sorry," she muttered, blushing.

"You think I'm something," Victoria said, "you should just see what she can do. It's like she's psychic."

"I'm not psychic!" Paige said indignantly. "I can just…notice things about people." Now everyone was staring pointedly at Sherlock.

He rolled his eyes.

"Like what?" Sam asked, interested.

"Like that you were raised by your brother since you were born because your dad became an alcoholic when your mom died," she said automatically. "And you had a girlfriend who died the same way and her name was Jennifer—or maybe Jessica—and Dean rescued you from the fire and your house burned down and then you started hunting with Dean and your dad went missing and now he's dead and Dean calls his car his baby because she's pretty much the only friend other than you that he's had since he was eight and he's been hunting since he was nine and—"

"Okay, you can stop now," Dean said quickly.

She was breathing hard. "I don't know how I do it."

Sam was staring straight out the window and the whole car was silent. "One hundred bottles of beer on the wall—," started the Doctor weakly, but stopped at the look on Amy's face. Paige suddenly seemed very apologetic about sitting next to Sam.

"Maybe we can listen to some music," Dean said, grabbing a cassette tape and shoving it in. Everyone jumped.

Dean smiled.

Later that day, eight people piled out of the car. It was a creepily silent trip; the only sound was various bands—including Kansas and Styx—and the sound of Dean banging his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Land!" Paige yelled, running toward the ugly motel.

Sam simply collapsed onto the ground. "C'mon, buddy," the Doctor said, grabbing him by the upper arm. The Doctor had been sleeping almost the whole ride on Amy's lap, much to her chagrin. She grumpily exited the car, her skirt looking very wrinkled, along with her shoulder. Victoria was looking slightly mad.

"Calm down, Bunny," Sam whispered as he passed her. She glared after him, incensed.

"Watch who you're calling a rabbit, Moose," she snarled. Dean passed by, looking thoroughly amused.

"So you insult each other by calling each other animal names?" Dean smirked. "Cute."

The lady at the front desk looked like a mousy-haired skeleton. Her voice and attitude was quite pleasant. "May I help you?"

Dean spoke. "We'd like to get…," he counted groups; "…four rooms please."

The woman checked the computer. "I'm sorry, there are only two available."

There was a loud _thunk_ as Dean's head hit the reception desk; a crude smile was plastered on Victoria's. Sam displayed horror and Paige groaned, sinking slowly to the floor. The Doctor seemed content (after all, he lived with his companions in a telephone box), and Amy slightly uneasily glanced at Dean. John looked stricken, Sherlock slightly disgusted.

The lady spoke apologetically. "There's a Hampton Inn a few miles down the road…?"

Dean laughed sourly. "Yeah, right. We'll take the rooms. How many beds are there?"

"If you include the pull-out couch, there's three in one room and two in the other."

Sam sighed, putting his hands to his eyes. "How much?" he asked monotonously.

"It's only fifty a night per room," she sounded sorry.

"Done."

Everyone started toward the elevator after Dean grabbed the keys. "This should be fun." It was decided that Dean, Sam, the Doctor, and Amy should share the room with two beds, while Sherlock, John, Victoria, and Paige stayed in the one with three.

Sam set his stuff (a small laptop bag) on the bed that—he shuddered to think about it—he would have to share with his brother. Dean glanced awkwardly at the Doctor. He was busy staring confusedly at the bar of soap in his hand. He had offered to sleep on the floor, giving Amy the whole _real _bed, and Sam and Dean on the sofa.

Dean started to take off his shirt before Amy made a funny squeaking noise. He quickly pulled the shirt back down and smiled sheepishly. "I'll go take a shower," he muttered. He made sure to lock the door before removing any article of clothing.

Sam, meanwhile, was on his laptop, searching for 'fear monster'. "So get this," he called to Dean. Steam poured out the bottom of the door and the sound of water was loud. "There have apparently been sightings of this fear monster all over southern Colorado, way out into Arizona. Only people who fear _only_ _one thing _have been able to see it as it really is."

He waited for Dean's response. "What thing?" Dean called loudly.

"Fear," Sam said impressively. The Doctor made a classic 'seems legit' face and Amy looked amazed. "It is seemingly the representation of fear."

"A boggart of sorts," the Doctor commented.

Sam looked up in recognition of the word and Amy looked merely confused.

"Never mind," the Doctor muttered.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom in a literal cloud of steam, a white hotel towel covering his hips and his lips pursed slightly. His hair was messy and soaked, his skin still glistening with drops of water, and every muscle on his upper body was highlighted perfectly.

"Don't show off, Dean," Sam muttered, still staring at his computer screen.

Amy was completely red and the Doctor was staring politely out the window…which was open. Several teenage girls were staring in unashamedly.

Just then Victoria burst in with Paige. After examining the scene, she left.

Dean seemed vaguely pleased by the results.

Sam sighed. "Get your damn clothes and change."

This time Dean turned, smiling charmingly, and winked at the girls outside the window before grabbing his clothes and going into the bathroom.

"Your brother's not a shy one, is he?" the Doctor asked pleasantly.

Sam cast him a look. "You have no idea."

There was a knock. "Yeah, he's in the bathroom," Sam answered. Victoria and Paige entered once more.

"So what is it?" Victoria asked simply.

"Fear," Sam replied. "in its simplest form. It's like a boggart."

"A what?" asked Victoria.

"It takes the form of whatever you fear the most, or your worst enemy," Sam said. "So I see it as…um, my enemy, but you see it as…yours."

"You're a pretty smart guy," Victoria noticed.

Sam was suddenly more interested in his computer. "Yeah, well. The internet helps," he mumbled.

Dean left the bathroom, smelling like pine. "Did you come back for more?" he asked suggestively.

Victoria admitted to herself that he did look vaguely sexy, but she could tell that his asinine behavior was a ruse. She had no time for cracking codes. Besides, she could honestly say to herself that she was more attracted to Sam. Paige was looking at her sister oddly and Victoria knew that Paige was basically listening to her thoughts. Great.

Sam was busily on his computer. Dean stood to his full height (not all that impressive). "We should get into groups and get the supplies we'll need. Sam and Victoria, you guys go look for the nearest checkpoints—Sam'll know what to look for—, the gay guys can try to find the main hub—that Sherlock guy seems pretty sharp—Doc, you and Amy should go look for anything you think we could use to fight this thing off, and I'll go with…"

He trailed off, realizing that he had accidentally paired himself with the snotty, psychic, fifteen-year-old. Wonderful.

John and Sherlock chose to join them then, and the Doctor explained everything as the pairs set up. Dean took Sam over to the side.

Dean gave his little brother the Look. The same face he had used on Sam when he was in fifth grade and he gave Amanda Smith his jacket. The same look he had used when Sam came home from his first date frustrated. The same look he had used when Sam came home from school asking about sex. The same look that he had used when Sam came home from a _party _asking about sex.

"What?" Sam asked innocently.

Dean said nothing. Sam reddened. "She's a cutie."

"Shut up, Dean."

Dean grinned full-on. "Don't be ashamed, little bro. Just know…that I know."

Sam stared. "That sounds really creepy."

Dean clapped his brother on the back. "Yeah, I know. Go get 'em, tiger!"


End file.
